


Buttered Toast

by greenwillow



Series: Top of the Class [10]
Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Pining, Post-Break Up, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29755638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenwillow/pseuds/greenwillow
Summary: Aldhelm has a frank conversation with Pyrlig, then Aethelflaed.
Relationships: Aethelflaed Lady of Mercia/Aldhelm (The Last Kingdom)
Series: Top of the Class [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048940
Comments: 14
Kudos: 6





	Buttered Toast

**Author's Note:**

> I know I just updated but I’m feeling very good about finishing this series soon (part 11 is halfway done, and I’ve started the last part too) both because I’m excited to share it and because that will let me devote more mental energy to other WIP.
> 
> They’re still broken up here, but we have some moments of real interaction between them. If you skipped over the last bit: earlier in the day (Friday) Aethelflaed got really drunk at a party at Uhtred’s, kissed Uhtred, regretted it, and climbed out a window to walk over to Aldhelm’s. He wasn't home and she was about to leave but then he showed up and he pulled her inside to keep her out of sight of the neighbors.

_**Friday 8:53 PM** _

The run-in with Aethelred had been on Aldhelm’s mind for the past week, of course, but nothing seemed to have come of it. Perhaps the sword that had been hanging over his head was merely an illusion. And then when he’s at Hild’s the following Friday he receives an email from the Dean.

An after-hours weekend email from the Dean. An after house weekend email from the Dean requesting a meeting with him on Sunday morning.

He’s still staring at his phone when a text from Pyrlig (who rarely texted) pops up.

_Aldhelm…call me._

Neither message was a good sign individually, but together…

 _At dinner_ , he replies, _may be here late. Speak in the morning?_

Maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance he’s jumped to the wrong conclusion.

“Everything alright?” Hild asks, touching his sleeve lightly.

Aldhelm realizes he’s been quite rude and slips his phone back into his pocket.

“Yes, fine, sorry.”

She doesn’t look as if she believes him, but he doesn’t have the energy for the conversation now. He can tell her later…he’ll probably be unable to avoid it. They carry on with dinner, and he does his best to behave normally. It’s not easy, but fortunately, there are plenty of guests to keep the conversation going. He checks his phone a few times throughout the evening, but Pyrlig doesn’t text back until he’s on his way out.

_I think we should talk in person. Do you have any time tonight? Meet me at mine?_

_Sure_ , Aldhelm replies. It’s after 10 o’clock, but apparently, Pyrlig is a night owl. And they might as well get the conversation over with. Pyrlig texts him the address.

He lives a bit outside of town, so Aldhelm walks home to get his car, then drives over. He passes by a few groups of college students making their way between various parties and finds himself wondering what Aethelflaed is doing.

He’d only seen her once, outside of class earlier that day (when he’d done his best to not notice her), and that was when she’d been crossing the quad between classes on Monday. She’d been walking with a willowy elfin-looking redheaded woman and he’d managed to duck out of the way so he wouldn’t be seen. He’d felt pretty foolish doing out, but that was nothing compared to how foolish he feels now.

Pyrlig’s place is neat and rather sparsely decorated but still inviting. A middle-aged woman with curly blonde hair shot through with silver opens the door.

“You must be Aldhelm,” she says, tugging at the reading glasses that hang from a strap around her neck.

“Yes…sorry to drop by so late.”

It wasn’t his idea to come by at this hour, but he feels as if she’s blaming him anyway—as she should, probably. She doesn’t seem inclined to introduce herself, and that all but confirms the reason for the meeting.

“He’s in the study,” she says brusquely, gesturing to a pair of French doors on Aldhelm’s left.

“Thanks,” Aldhelm says, and she nods and disappears into another room.

Pyrlig is seated at a desk covered in dogeared journal articles and open books staring at his computer screen until Aldhelm knocks at the door on his way in. It’s clear the minimalism evident in the rest of the home is his wife’s influence, not his.

“Thanks for coming by,” he says as Aldhelm takes a seat on the chair opposite him. “I was blind copied on that email from the Dean…I expect you know why they’ve asked for a meeting.”

“I have a sneaking suspicion.”

“He asked me first…before he emailed you," Pyrlig continues, an unfamiliar befuddled look on his face. "Asked me if I knew anything.”

“Oh?” Aldhelm laces his fingers together, unsure what to do with his hands. This feeling of being called up before the headmaster has been unfamiliar since he was about ten years old and figured out how to get away with things—nothing too serious until this point.

“I don’t know anything,” Pyrlig says, clearing his throat, “So that’s what I told him…and then he told me what he’d been told…”

“Right.” Aldhelm says, and he feels the blood leaving his face.

“Fuck.” Pyrlig leans back in his chair, a vaguely defeated look on his face as he surveys Aldhelm’s expression.

Aldhelm wets his lips, unsure what to say until prompted.

“It’s true then. You were—are?— sleeping with a student in one of our classes.”

“Past tense, yes.”

Pyrlig sighs and makes an apologetically spastic gesture with his hands. “I have to ask who…there’ll be a full investigation of grades and coursework—“

“It was Aethelflaed.”

“Christ, Aldhelm.” Pyrlig runs a hand over his face, as if that had somehow been the worst possible answer. To be honest, it probably was.

Aldhelm looks up at the ceiling, allowing Pyrlig to process the information as privately as possible.

“It’s just…she’s got top marks…”

“I know.”

“I suppose she was in my section for all the assignments…”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know that the Dean will believe me,” Pyrlig says, biting his thumb. “The advisory board certainly aren’t disposed to treat you kindly.”

“They shouldn’t be,” Aldhelm agrees.

Pyrlig scratches his beard in a contemplative manner. “I don’t understand. You’re smarter than this.”

Aldhelm lets out a helpless laugh. He doesn't know what else to do. Pyrlig shakes his head.

“Your career…”

“If it matters, I didn’t think we’d get caught.”

Pyrlig exhales sharply. “That’s pretty clear.”

“I am sorry to disappoint you, sir,” Aldhelm says, feeling the color return to his face. “I didn’t think how it might reflect on you, and that’s pretty selfish.”

“Me?” Pyrlig asks, incredulous. “Don’t worry about _me_. Worry about yourself.” He says it in a sincere tone, not judgmentally, and Aldhelm is weirdly touched.

“I can assure you, I will.”

Pyrlig crosses his arms over his chest, then brings a fist to his chin. “May I ask why?”

Aldhelm opens his mouth, then closes it. He doesn’t know exactly how he can answer that in a moderately respectable way.

Pyrlig grimaces, then tilts his head as if to acknowledge a point Aldhelm had not actually made.

They sit in silence for a moment.

“Will you be at the meeting, sir?”

“Yes, they’ll want to cross-examine me. We probably shouldn’t be talking now, but fuck it. I felt we owed each other that much.”

“I agree, sir.”

“Who was it, anyway?” Pyrlig asks, eyes narrowed. “Who turned you in, do you think? How did you get found out? You must have been careful.”

Aldhelm relays the story of the Aethelred and the receipt.

“Of course that cunt is involved,” Pyrlig mutters.

Aldhelm raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, sorry, have I offended you?” the other man asks sarcastically.

Aldhelm laughs again, this time genuinely. “Not at all.”

Pyrlig sighs and rubs a hand over his balding head. “What are you going to do on Sunday?”

“Be honest, I suppose. It’s not as bad as it sounds…except…” He pauses, replaying all of the hours he and Aethelflaed had spent together in various compromising positions, “I suppose it’s actually sort of worse…”

Pyrlig winces, and Aldhelm compresses the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, it’s definitely worse.”

“Hope it was worth it, mate.”

And Aldhelm wonders if it was.

**_Saturday, 12:06 AM_ **

They’re in close proximity on the other side of his door. Aethelflaed’s looking off into the distance with wide eyes. He can see her makeup is smudged and her hair’s a bit mussed. She looks rough, like she’s running from something or someone. He can’t help but be worried.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” she says, though her voice is thick and her eyes bright.

He sighs and leans back against the wall, hands shoved into his coat pockets so he doesn’t do something he’ll regret.

“Why are you here, Aethelflaed?” he asks, and he hopes his tone is gentle.

“I’m not sure,” she says in a strained voice, then her knees buckle a little. She stumbles back before he can catch her, and then slips down the wall until she’s sitting on the floor, staring down at her hands.

“I did something stupid.”

He takes a seat on the floor opposite her. The space they’re in is just wider and longer than the door itself, so their legs nearly touch. “Do I want to hear about it?”

Aethelflaed laughs a sniffly sort of laugh. “Probably not.”

“Right.” That gives him a certain idea of what she’s talking about, and she’s right, he’d rather not know details.

She’s wearing a short form-fitting dress (he tries not to notice exactly how short) and tall boots with no coat, and there’s a tear in one leg of her tights. She really doesn’t seem to know why she’s there, and that’s not the only thing that’s off about her. There’s something raw and desperate beneath the surface, something that she’d cut off from him during their last conversation.

“You’re not going to tell me what’s going on?”

She shrugs, pursing her lips in that way she does when she’s feeling vulnerable. “I missed you.”

“Aethelflaed…”

“You don’t have to say it back,” she says, closely examining her fingernails.

He stretches his legs out to one side, away from her. It’s an abrupt and not very graceful movement, and she looks up at him for a second before looking away again.

“I know I shouldn’t be here,” she says quietly.

“And yet…” He sighs and shifts his hands in his pockets.

“Are you alright?” she asks, really looking at him for the first time rather than avoiding eye contact. “You look tired.”

“I’m just…” he stops himself. “I am tired. End of term, you know.”

She nods, but her brow is furrowed. She doesn’t believe him. “You don't have to tell me, but you can if you want to.”

He bites his lip, then jumps to his feet. “You should eat something.”

“I don’t want to eat something.”

“Fine. Well, I’m going to make myself some toast and it would be rude not to make you some.”

He watches her out of the corner of his eye as he moves to the kitchen and slips two pieces of bread into the toaster. She’s leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. She’s not drunk anymore, but it must have been quite a night. Getting in all the partying she’d missed out on earlier in the term, he supposes. He takes his coat and scarf off then pulls the butter out of the fridge.

The toaster pops up, and she startles slightly, opening her eyes and shivering.

He butters the toast and brings both pieces together on a plate. Picking up his piece, he slides the plate across the ground towards her. She gives him a reluctant half-smile and takes a bite.

“Thanks.”

“Mmmmm.”

“I can go,” she says, pulling a bit of crust off and staring at it. “I know you don’t…I know we’re done, I do. I don’t want to get you in trouble, it was stupid for me to have come here.”

He laughs involuntarily at this, and she looks up with a frown.

“Sorry, I’m not implying you’re…it’s just…I think I’m getting fired, so that’s funny at the moment. About getting me in trouble.”

“Are you joking?” Her eyes are wide. She’s dropped her toast back on to the plate and is leaning towards him.

“No, I’m not. I suppose it’s not certain they’re going to fire me. But they know, and the Dean’s asked for a meeting Sunday.” He glances at his watch. “Tomorrow, technically.”

“Fuck,” Aethelflaed breathes, drawing a hand up to her cheek. “But how—“

“Your ex-boyfriend.”

“Aethelred?”

“The very one,” he replies through his last bite of toast.

“But how did he—“

“A takeout receipt I had used as a bookmark,” he says, brushing his fingertips together to rid them of crumbs. “It had your name on it. He made some very cryptic remarks about finding a solution to his problem, and…well, today I got the email. I don’t know why I was using it as a bookmark anyway, the ink on that type of paper has a tendency to bleed—”

“Aldhelm…”

“Pyrlig knows. Knows for sure, I mean. We talked, I was honest.”

“Why haven’t they contacted me yet?” she asks, shifting a little closer as if that would help her process what he was saying.

“I don’t know,” he says, drawing his knees to his chest. “I haven’t been in this position before, I don’t know what procedures they follow…they shouldn't need to make your name public, but at some point they will ask to talk to you, and your grades will be called into question. The good news is, I can prove without a shadow of a doubt that Pyrlig was responsible for all your assignments this term. We’ve already talked about it, I don’t think you have anything to worry—”

“Aldhelm!”

He looks at her, really looks at her, and she’s not mopey or shocked any longer—she looks angry.

“I’m not going to let you lose your job over this!”

She’s so confident that it’s endearing. He tries not to let his face soften too much. “I don’t actually think it’s up to you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she says, drawing her brows together and pulling out her phone. “It’s a ten-minute walk to Aethelred’s place from here—“

“You’re not going over there, Aethelflaed, that’s insane. What are you going to do, convince Aethelred to walk back what he said? Even if you could—“

“It’s the principle of the thing.”

“The principle is that we broke a rule, and there are consequences.”

“It’s a stupid rule,” she snaps.

“No, it’s not.”

“You still shouldn't lose your job.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Well, it’s not fair for you to get fired and nothing to happen to me,” she argues, chin raised.

“I don’t think the solution to that is for you to have harsher consequences than necessary, or…whatever it is you're thinking. Besides, it’s more my responsibility.”

“We both—“

“I know.”

They sit in silence for a moment, just staring at each other. She looks different somehow…she’s back to being unattainable like she’d been before this whole mess, but this time she’s in his flat and she’s been drinking, and her hair is a mess, and—

He closes his eyes, forcing himself to refocus on the stark reality of the situation, a situation that definitely had no room for whatever thoughts were manifesting in the less regulated corners of his mind.

“I can fix this.”

“No,” he says, eyes still closed.

“I can.”

“It’s done, Aethelflaed. Stop being absurd.”

“It’s no more absurd than just giving up.”

He opens his eyes, and she’s still glaring at him.

“It’s out of your control now, Aethelflaed.”

She crosses her arms. In her defense, it was probably one of the only times in her life that had been true. Then her mood shifts (it must be the exhaustion settling in) and she looks as defeated as he feels. He rubs the back of his neck, unsure what to do or say next. There’s no blueprint for any of this.

“I should go,” she says finally, uncrossing her arms.

His eyes flick over her—thin stockings, short dress, boots that (if he had to guess) were probably not meant for trudging through slush. “You can’t walk back like that. It’s the middle of the night, and it’s freezing, and you’re not even wearing a coat.”

“What are you going to do, lend me a coat?” she asks, taunting.

He sighs. He’s too tired to do this. “Stay here, sleep for a few hours, then in the morning I’ll drive you home.”

She narrows her eyes at him.

“On the sofa,” he adds sternly, rising to his feet. “You can sleep on the sofa.”

She nods and rubs her upper arms as if she’s just gotten a chill.

He goes to the bedroom and finds a pair of flannel pajama pants that might fit her and a jumper soft enough to sleep in.

She’s picking at the run in her stocking when he returns, eyes wide as if she’s just noticed it.

“You can sleep in this.”

She looks up, a bit dazed, like she’d forgotten where she was. “Washroom?”

Aldhelm hands her the pile of clothes and points her in the right direction.

He washes the toast plate then moves it to the drying rack. He’s still staring off into space when she emerges a few moments later, face washed and hair tamed (he’s not sure how unless she’s used the small comb he keeps behind the mirror). She’s had to roll the waistband of the pants and they’re still long, and the jumper is roomy on her as well. It ought to be a funny contrast to her normally perfectly tailored ensembles, but the sight of her like this makes a lump rise in his throat.

“Thanks,” she says, setting her own clothes, neatly folded, on the coffee table. “Do you have any socks?”

“Of course, sorry.”

She hovers in the door of his bedroom while he retrieves a pair of thick wool socks from the top drawer of his dresser. Their fingers brush as he hands them to her and he drops his hand quickly.

“Didn’t realize I was radioactive.”

“Aethelflaed…”

“It’s a joke…a bad one, sorry. I’m…it’s fine.”

He expects her to put her mask back on, but she doesn’t, and he’s stuck, caught in her orbit again. She doesn't even seem to know it this time. That’s the strangest part.

Her cheeks are flushed, and he’s watching her eyes gently open and close, slower and slower, and her lips part just slightly—

“Blankets?” she asks.

He stares.

“For the sofa?”

“Yes, blankets,” he says, shaking his head to clear his mind and walking to the closet. He realizes the clothes she’d bought him are on full display only after he opens the door.

“I…should probably offer to return those to you,” he says, nodding towards the suits as he pulls two blankets from one of the shelves.

“Aldhelm, what am I going to do with a wardrobe that was tailored specifically for you?”

“Right. Ermmm…right.” What a stupid thought.

“I would say you should wear one of the suits to your meeting tomorrow, but…”

“I definitely, _definitely_ , shouldn't do that.”

She makes a strained face, and he thinks she’s going to cry (and the guilt wrenches his insides immediately), but then she bursts out laughing. She laughs so hard the tears stream from her eyes and she has to sit down on the floor and cover her face.

He stands in horror for a minute, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but she just keeps laughing, and honestly—it’s funny, undeniably funny…fucked up, to be sure, but funny.

He begins to laugh himself, and sinks down on the floor opposite her, and when she finally stops he does too, feeling lighter.

“We’re ridiculous,” she says, still out of breath, wiping the tears away.

He draws in a deep breath and leans back on the heel of his hand. “We are.”

She starts laughing again. “I mean, I really thought this was all going to work out fine. _You_ really thought this was all going to work out fine.”

“I think, on some level I knew—“ he begins to argue, but she cuts him off.

“Easy to say that now!”

He raises an eyebrow at her.

“Sorry, sir,” she says, raising an eyebrow back at him.

He sighs, then stands up and offers her his hands. She accepts, and he pulls her to her feet. She’s standing so close now, the blankets he’s clutching to his chest with one arm the only thing separating them.

“I’ll just—“

“Yeah.”

He relinquishes the blankets, and she makes her way to the sofa.

“Do you need anything else? Water?”

“No,” she shakes her head, laying one blanket down over the sofa cushions. “Go to bed, Aldhelm. I’ve kept you up too late already.”

So he flicks the lights off and goes to lay in the next room where he stares at the ceiling thinking about the death of his career and definitely nothing else until he finally drifts to sleep.

**_Saturday, 8:13 AM_ **

When Aldhelm wakes the next morning, she’s already gone. He must have been sleeping heavily not to hear the door. The pants and socks he’d leant her are folded on the table. She appears to have kept the jumper. She didn’t text or leave a note, and he’s not sure whether that’s strange or not given the circumstances.

His meeting is set for 2:00 PM the next day, which feels an eternity away. He considers texting Hild, but he doesn't have the energy for that conversation today. Maybe tomorrow, when it’s all over. He’ll have to tell her that he’s leaving at some point, not to mention why.

He scrambles a few eggs and sits down on the sofa to eat them. Aethelflaed has left the blankets folded and draped over the back, and he notices something shimmery stuck to one of them. Setting down his plate, he picks at it and realizes it’s a gold bracelet of Aethelflaed’s that’s gotten trapped in the fibers of the blanket. It’s extremely delicate and expensive-looking so he carefully extracts it from the fabric it’s clinging to. There’s a small charm shaped like the letter “a” in a lowercase cursive script hanging near the clasp.

He sets it next to his phone. She’ll be wanting that back, but he doesn’t have the mental or emotional energy to devote to figuring out how he’ll give it to her until after his meeting.

At least he has an excuse to talk to her one last time, even if they don’t see each other…they probably shouldn’t. He hadn’t thought last night would be the last time.

He stares at the opposite wall and forgets to eat his eggs before they’re cold.

**Author's Note:**

> I should say I don't really have a firm idea how this type of misconduct would actually be handled at university level (my research yielded very vague results), but hopefully it's believable enough. 
> 
> Anyway, it starts to get "better" from here (though there are still some low points) but I will give them a happy resolution in part 12, I promise. 
> 
> Find the playlist and reblog [here.](https://aadmelioraa.tumblr.com/post/644368738968322048/aadmelioraa-modern-au-college-au)


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